


Three

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Death, Fights, Ghosts, Guns, Jason Todd is Robin, M/M, Masturbation, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-29 23:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8510200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: Three moments in Jason's ghostly un-death wherein he wishes like hell he can intervene when he cannot. Revenge. Anguish. Desperation.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For JayRoyWeek on Tumblr. Day 7: Ghosts  
> [His gun](http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/originals/65/fc/92/65fc9257df873ba6184098394e1dca1d.jpg) for the curious.  
> Three shots of espresso turned into five and holy shit what did I do... this was coffee created, forgive me.  
> Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: "Beautiful Pain" by Eminem (ft Sia) / "Don't" by Bryson Tiller / "Valerie" by The Weeknd

"How long has it been since someone touched beneath the surface of your skin and captured the attention of your soul?"  
\- Netalie paralta

Jason watched as Roy flitted around the room. He studied the grim set of his mouth, the way his shoulders seemed somehow tenser than they had in the entire time Jason had known him. His teeth clenched until Jason could _hear_ them grind against one another.

Roy was obviously in so much pain - not an ounce of it physical - and Jason's heart went out to him. 

Pulling himself up on the edge of the dresser Roy was rummaging through, Jason watched as Roy extracted a single handgun - if he wasn't mistaken, a Wilson Combat 1911. Roy slid the clip in and doubled-checked the safety before he pushed himself away from the dresser, slamming it shut as he turned on his heel, gun sliding into the pocket of his red hoodie. 

Something like fear surged up through Jason as he hopped down and followed after Roy, wincing when the air conditioner kicked on, skirting around the blast of it and rushing off after Roy down the hallway. 

Roy made it three steps from the apartment - Jason left squirming in the entryway, tears streaking down his face as he helplessly reached for the door, the pull of his form consistently tugging him back toward the bedroom. Jason's chest began to heave with a myriad of helpless silent wails, reaching for the door time and again. 

The door clicked back open and Jason relaxed, only to shudder as Roy walked right through him, going back to the bedroom. Jason darted after him, skirting the air conditioner's blast once again, watching as Jason opened the tiny drawer beneath where Jason had been sitting, extracted a tiny silver **R** and pushed it into his pocket. 

This time as he left the house, Jason passed through the door behind him, followed with a sense of relief he knew he shouldn't have felt, especially with where he thought - perhaps - Roy was heading. They both slipped down the stairwell, Roy taking steps quickly, tugging his hood up over his head as he pushed out into the back alley, Jason hot on his heels.

The night was warm, humid for Gotham, and Jason took in the people in shorter sleeves, the people with tank tops and shorts that littered the street they attempted to blend into, and he _knew_ Roy stuck out like a sore thumb. It took him two blocks to understand that Roy was _trying_ to stick out, that he wanted someone to stop him from what he was about to do. The hoodie in the middle of such a muggy night was just a plea for attention and the way he pulled the hood up and darted around like he was up to no good, was screaming for everyone to take notice of him. 

They made a pit stop at a small bar and Jason had to crowd in close to the bar to actually hear what Roy was muttering to the bartender. A small device was passed to him along with a shot of vodka and Jason watched as Roy tossed it back, his eyes studying the once bright features, the eyes that had once held so much light and the jaw that he'd once thought of as stronger than even Bruce's. But now all he saw was a broken man, a man barely clinging to his ideals, barely placing one foot in front of the other in the game of life, and he felt _shame_ that he had been the cause of this: the source of so much agony.

They left the bar and three blocks later, Roy stopped beside a corkboard, one where many of Gotham's wannabe good guys found their assignments. Roy fished out a note and from his pocket, smoothed it open and held it up, pinning it in place. When he backed away, Jason saw with absolute _fear_ that it was his **R** holding it in place. 

Roy stepped back from the board and then turned, looking right at Jason and offering him a weak little smile. "I've known you've been here the whole time, Jay... all along, just following me around because you're attached to that thing. You need to _let go_. Move on to where ever's next, okay?" His hand slipped into his pocket and Jason saw the outline of the gun shift as he palmed it, made it less obvious. "I will avenge you. No one takes the life of a friend on my watch. _No one_." He turned away, took three steps and then stopped, shaking his head just the slightest. "If miracles happen, Jay... I'll be somewhere out here. Whose side... where... I don't know. But _somewhere_ , I'll be waiting."

Just like that... he was gone.

\---------------------------

Jason trailed behind Slade, shadowing his steps so that he wouldn't be hit by the random gusts of wind Gotham was offering up tonight. He'd learned how to pull himself back together after being pulled apart by gusts of wind over the past three months, but it was _difficult_ and he disliked appearing in the middle of situations he didn't comprehend until he was fully back in form. It was just easier to stay out of situations that would get him into such trouble. 

He pushed through the door behind Slade, ignoring how it swung back into him, just passing through it instead. He skirted around a variety of tables until Slade slipped into a booth, slapping a contract down on the table, Jason's **R** on top of it, and Jason finally looked up at the other party, his eyes going wide. Roy sat across from him, looking like a hollowed out shell of who he used to be: dark bags under his eyes, his cheeks sunken and his hands shaking as he reached for the paper, carefully avoiding touching the **R**. 

"You kill him?" His voice was raw, as if he'd spent the night screaming. 

Slade leaned back in the booth, crossing his arms, a snort half sticking his throat. "I don't take contracts for such a small amount of money."

"Then why the _hell_ did you take it off the board? It's been _months_!" Roy sounded enraged now and he half surged up from his seat, hand coming down hard on the table as he leaned to stick his finger in Slade's face.

Slade didn't even flinch, just watching Roy with a faintly bemused look on his face. "You think you can ask someone to kill _him_ to what... stop _you_ from doing it?"

Roy snarled and Jason thought for sure he was going to come over the table at Slade for a moment. " _Fuck you_ , Deathstroke. You don’t know me _or_ my past. You don't know what I did the night I pinned that up there and you don't-"

"Enough." One word and Roy froze, slowly sinking back into his seat, turning his head, finding Dick standing beside the table. Jason glanced at him, smiling up at him, looking between Dick and Roy as he slid into the booth beside him. "Slade... _please_ stop antagonizing him. Roy... God, Roy." Dick just trailed off, sinking down in the booth and sticking his feet up, right through Jason's form to rest on the other bench, next to Slade. 

Roy shoved himself against the corner of the booth, stared pissed off between Dick and Slade for a moment before he reached out and snatched up the **R** pin, pushing it into his pocket. "If you'll _excuse_ me then, I'm reclaiming _my_ property and leaving.”

Dick stood to let Roy out, but Slade's voice stopped him midway up from the booth. "Is that what you call _him_?" He jerked his thumb toward where Jason sat and Roy's eyes darted to see Jason for the first time since they'd sat down. He watched anger blossom over his features and he _knew_ what was coming before Roy's fist ever connected with Slade's jaw. 

Jason stood up, heaving out what would have been a sigh, had he found the breath to do it with, and just stood and watched as Slade slammed Roy face-first onto the table, holding him there, snarling at Dick to keep his friend on a shorter leash next time. And Jason... Jason just stood there, closed his eyes, and quietly counted to three, hoping against hope that if he just kept doing it, everything would go back to how it had once been. Futile as it was, it hadn't stopped him yet.

 _One. Two. Three._ Opening his eyes, all he found was a hopeless case, Roy curled on the bench, shoulders heaving with silent sobs, Dick and Slade nowhere to be found. Maybe... maybe that was best.

\---------------------------

Roy arched up from the bed, a choked-off cry leaving his throat as he worked his hand quickly under his sweatpants. Jason was perched on his dresser, head tilted as he watched the way he pleasured himself. Sucking his lower lip into his mouth, he gave a tentative rock of his hips, letting his thoughts wander as they always did whenever Roy finally got too worked up to stop himself from finding his pleasure - regardless if Jason was settled on the dresser or not.

He listened to Roy whine, watched him writhe on the bed, and he _knew_ he was having issues actually getting off like this. His body wanted more than he was willing to give it with Jason hanging around, but honestly, Jason had left him alone every single other time in the past and he wasn't about to give this one up. He'd spent so long trailing along after Roy that he felt like they shared something now, even if it would never be tangible, never be _more_ than a fleeting glance or the fact that Roy just went about life, skirting around him like he was entirely _real_ now, regardless of how it looked to others.

The bed squeaked as Roy bucked up into his hand three times, cursing as he strained and then snarled, yanking his hand out of his pants and just lying there, looking more frustrated than when he fucked something up on a night out in the city.

Jason slipped off of the dresser, coming to stand by the bed, studying Roy's face before he smiled at him, shifted over him and settled astride his hips. He _knew_ he was cold, that the feeling of his body over Roy like this had to be _odd_ at best, but he didn't let it deter him. He gave a small rock of his hips as he placed his hands on Roy's chest, a stupid grin tugging at his lips as he rocked over him, simulating what he'd be doing if he were riding Roy's cock.

" _Jay_ ," Roy managed, a weak little protest-sounding voicing of his name. But a second later, he had his hand back in his sweatpants, wrapped around his cock and jacking off as Jason moved over him. 

Tipping his head back, Jason thought about it _really_ hard and shifted his image, knowing he could only hold it for a limited period of time, but it would be worth it if Roy let himself get off on it. His Robin clothing disappeared, leaving him naked, his cock hard the way he once remembered it could be. He wrapped one ghostly hand around himself and simulated jacking himself off, watching the way Roy's nostrils flared, the way he immediately wrenched his sweats down to reveal his cock as he jacked off faster. 

Jason shifted himself until he was letting the tip of Roy's cock disappear into his form in a way that implied things he'd never actually done before he'd died, and it was _that_ that threw Roy over the edge, choking out Jason's name as his cum pulsed from his cock in thick spurts, drenching his hand and his lower abdomen. 

Jason let go of the form he'd been holding, snapping back to his usual self and settling himself on Roy's bed, knees drawn up as he smiled at Roy, wishing like hell he could have felt something _more_ , something _better_ than he had. 

Turning his head, he studied the clock, watching the glowing red numbers slip over to _3:33_ in the morning. Roy's quiet breath of, "Goodnight, Jay," was something he hadn't heard in weeks and even as he let his eyelids fall closed, he let himself _dream_. 

Someday, he'd escape this version of hell and someday he'd find Roy Harper and show him _exactly_ how life was meant to be lived.

Someday.


End file.
